The Stereotype Game
by DarkAngel91398
Summary: We all know them: You're pretty so you're popular, you're a tomboy so you're weird, etc. Well,give that to me, add some of my fave characters, and here's the Stereotype Game. This might be trouble for the RRB who have been challeged and must win, or for the girls' sake, lose. Or Brick might have braided hair, Boomer with a haircut, and Butch with.. A dress? Whaat? *Read note plz*
1. Judgement

The Stereotype Game… RRB, PPG, PPNK… By Dark Angel 91398...

Buttercup: Angel owns nothing.

Blossom: "The Stereotype Game" is based on a real game she and her friends play.

Bubbles: Read the end note for an explanation!

Chapter One: Judgment.. *Blossom's POV*

It was yet another clear, crisp day as Buttercup, Bubbles, Bunny, and I spent our day in Townsville Park, babysitting our friend Angel's youngest cousin, Zephyr.

Zephyr wasn't exactly the world's most talkative kid nor was he the world's calmest and because he somehow has super powers, it takes all of us to baby-sit him in case he decides to play hide-and-seek again.

… That was one of the hardest things to explain why a little boy ended up in Mojo's bathroom… Though the boy is a pro at hiding..

Bubbles was teaching the little boy how to jump rope and Zephyr, as intelligent as he is, wasn't able to do it. Buttercup was encouraging him and his face was red from shame. Bunny was holding the other end of the rope and was trying to comfort him.

I was on the bench, watching the events unfold coolly, with a favorite book of mine in my lap and was praising Zephyr as he jumped over the white-yellow braid of rope when I heard them.

"That is so girly!" a rough voice guffawed childishly.

"Yeah, talk about gay! That kid's gonna be!" another gruff voice snickered.

"Ha! He's so stupid!" a third voice scoffed.

I glared at the source of the taunts and came eye-to-eye with my worst enemy, Brick Arias Jojo. His brothers stood behind him on either side, Boomer on the right and Butch on the left. Bandit, his fourth brother, was missing. His blood red eyes stabbed my rose pink ones bravely and a smirk plastered on his face devilishly.

"What do you three think you're doing?" I demanded, my ember-red bangs shifting to show the Rowdyruff Boys the full blunt of my angry glower.

"Nothing. Why? Is it illegal to be in a park?" Brick scoffed childishly, adjusting his famous red baseball cap that sat on his head backwards. His brothers, slightly intimidated, backed up.

"That's not what I meant." I snarled, my eyes narrowing dangerously. The wind cause my red bow's tips to flicker like an irritated cat's tail before the attack. "Why are you making fun of Zephyr?"

"PFFT! Zephyr! What type of stupid name is that!" Brick snorted, his long, jagged fire-red hair swishing as he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes and repeated the question. By then, Bubbles, Bunny, and Buttercup had walked over with Zephyr. Brick stopped laughing for a little to answer as Buttercup glowered at Butch and Bubbles rolled her sky blue eyes at Boomer for sticking his tongue out.

"Well, he's doing something girly. So, either he's gay or he's gonna be." Brick explained seriously.

My eyes widened and not surprisingly, started to twitch. My hands clenched into fists and Bunny hurriedly rushed to my side, making sure I didn't go after my nefarious counterpart, before she wandered after Zephyr.

"That is a total stereotype!" I snapped irritably.

"And..?" Brick asked, confused and oblivious to Butch and Buttercup destroying each other in the background.

"Oh, so how would you like it if someone judged you by the way you are!" I growled.

"People already do." he grinned smugly.

".. Fine.. Let's play the Stereotype Game." I said determinedly.

"The what?" Brick frowned, mystified.

"Well, you made the inference that because a boy was doing something girly, he was gay, right?"

"Yeah.. And..?"

"Well, that's part of the Game."

".. I don't get it.."

"Ok, so here's an example: You're a boy with long hair, so you MUST be gay."

"B-but, I'm not g-gay!"

"… It's an example! So then, in the Stereotype game, you can either enforce the stereotype or disprove it. So, you could act like you were a stereotypical gay or act as straight as you can."

"That's so.. Simple.."

"Good, so now you're playing."

"I never agreed to this!"

"I'll give you your set of stereotypes tomorrow. Your brothers playing?"

"Um.. Uh, sure?"

"So, I'll give you the stereotype that fit you three and you have to-."

"I know, I know.. But what happens if I win?"

"What do you mean..?"

"Winning. I'm not playing a game without a prize."

My eyes narrowed instinctively. I trust Brick as much as I can braid his hair, which is a negative. I am not allowed to touch Brick's hair. His blood red eyes glimmered maliciously in the sunlight.

"What exactly are you getting at..?" I demanded, suspicious. The smugness in his eyes was getting to me.

"How about if I win, I get whatever I want for a week?" Brick asked coolly.

"Don't you already?" I scoffed. "Of course, but that's not all. I get whatever I want for a week.. From you." he smirked. "No." I said flatly, my face pale.

"Coward."

"I am not. I just don't like making bargains with cheats and criminals."

"Aw, now, Blossie. That hurts."

"… Fine. But if I win, you have to be a good boy or let me braid your hair."

"NEVER!"

"Brick, are you saying you don't want to try to win? I never expected such an act from the almighty Brick Jojo."

I felt Brick rush at me and I blinked in shock as he pressed me against a tall oak tree away from where our sibling were fighting. Brick's hat shaded his eyes and a eerie smirk grew on his face.

"You don't honestly know who you're messing with, Pinky.. You're playing with fire…" Brick growled huskily, letting out a slight chuckle. ".. And we all know ice melts.."

"Brick, what are you talking about?" I demanded, unnerved viciously, as Brick kept his eyes hidden from me.

".. All I'm saying," Brick's eyes flashed to my own, a dark ruby color that made me fully disconcerting. "I hope you like getting burned, sweetheart."

Brick's smirk could put the Cheshire Cat to shame with the wicked mischief and mystery brewing behind it. Brick's lips brushed my own and my face flushed a bright red.

"You think I'm going to let you win? You have another thing coming.. Hope you melt." Brick laughed darkly, flying away.

My eyes widened and I touched my pale, tingling lips gently. What did I just do..?

~End of chapter~

Reds: Review for 5 Gum!

*Note: The Stereotype Game was made by me and my friends on my birthday about five or six years ago. It is partially based by the stereotype copy-bold-paste-this things you see on people's profiles and partially based on a dare I did..

The game in the story is our first version from the years before we advanced it. It's very simple and can be fun with the right people.

I already have a few stereotypes for the Ruffs and would appreciate if you could send a few in. I'm debating on the main couple for the story, so don't be surprised if you see the points of view switching occasionally.*

~Peace, peeps, and thanks for reading~


	2. The List

The Stereotype Game… RRB, PPG, PPNK… By Dark Angel 91398...

Butch: Angel still owns nothing but her pathetic existence.

Brick: Angel, I damn you. Damn you!

Boomer:… Thanks for the reviews and enjoy the story :3

Chapter Two: The List ^^Brick's POV^^

Butch and Boomer let out a groan as I explained what I just got us sucked into, earning me a glare from Butch who doesn't like authority or commands, the next day on our way to the park.

Bandit was sick again, so it was just Butch and Boomer with me. Bandit shouldn't have eaten the toothpaste again.. then again, he can't stop accepting dares.

"Look at it this way: If we win, we get whatever we want for a week from them!" I pointed out, rolling my red eyes at Butch's fist clenching.

"But if we lose.." Boomer started, his ocean blue eyes stormy as he thought.

"Yeah, what about me and Boomer? Sure, Blossom can either make you good for a while or braid your hair," Butch scoffed. "But what happens if me or Blondie loses?"

"I dunno. I guess Bubbles and Buttercup choose." I shrugged carelessly, causing my brothers to give each other an alarmed look.

"WE HAVE TO WIN!" Boomer screamed dramatically, his hands pulling at his golden blond winged-hair. "WE GOTTA, BRICK, WE GOTTA! SHE'LL GIVE ME A HAIRCUT!"

Boomer surprisingly then grabbed me by my shoulder and shook me violently, close to tears, until my hat fell off. I glowered at him and he slowly backed up, walking next to me again.

"That's what I thought.." I huffed, picking up my hat swiftly before Butch decided to kick it or worse.

"I have no clue what Butterballs would want me to do, but I know it ain't good." Butch agreed, completely agreeing with Boomer peacefully for once.

"Of course not! You two are counterparts!.. But we all know you'd like it cause you LOVE her." Boomer taunted mischievously and stupidly.

Butch's face burned bright red and his forest green eyes narrowed dangerously at our blond brother, fists clenched tightly, before he did something that shocked us both.

Butch actually didn't punch Boomer or do anything violently.. Except relax and laugh. And laugh. And laugh like he was insane.

"Love her?" Butch continued to laugh like a madman, his chuckles eerily cutting through the usual afternoon sounds of the city.

"Butch, knock it off. You're freaking us out, you weirdo." I said half-jokingly, punching his arm.

"Love her..? I'd rather DIE!" he growled viciously. "But first, I'd have to kill her."

".. Butch.. Has anyone ever told you how creepy you can be?" Boomer asked, wide eyes narrowing to glower at our dark-haired sibling.

"Yes, actually. I don't really know why though.." Butch frowned, running his fingers through his midnight-black spikes.

"You don't say..." I blurted, rolling my eyes. "Bitch, please."

Boomer snorted back a chuckle as Butch's brow furrowed and he shook his head, lips pursed to keep from cursing me out and getting hurt. He sorta look like our dad trying to plot an evil plan, which was why Boomer was laughing.

"That's what I thought." I smirked evilly.

".. Did anyone ever tell you how much of a dick you can be?" Butch growled.

"Nope." I smiled smugly at his shocked look.

".. I really, really, really hate you." he hissed under his breath.

In the distance, I saw the Powerpuff Girls and the little kid from yesterday standing by the water fountain of the Mayor with three lists in the kid's hands.

"Well, looks like they didn't chicken out after all.." Buttercup remarked sarcastically, her emerald eyes focused on Butch.

"Ha, ha, ha, shut up!" Butch snapped, eye twitching violently in rage as he eyed Buttercup furiously.

"Zephyr, give them the lists." Blossom sweetly told the boy, ruffling the kid's hair.

"Why can't you give them to us yourselves?" I demanded, immediately suspicious.

Blossom rolled her rose eyes and Zephyr quietly handed me the lists of stereotypes that applied to me and my brothers.

"Yay! Now, we can teach you how to play soccer!" Bubbles said, hugging the kid with her gleaming sky blue eyes.

"Yay!" Zephyr yelled happily, squeezing the blonde Puff excitedly.

"Aw… I wanna play too!" Boomer whined. "I mean, pfft! Soccer's a gay sport!" He grinned bashfully at glares sent from me and Butch.

"Ok, now this is awkward!" Buttercup complained moodily, arms crossed and still glaring daggers at Butch, looking like she was about to grab a bat and go nuts.

"Can't we just fight!" Butch sneered, eyes on his counterpart. (If a stranger was to see him watching her so intently, it would look like he was obsessed with a crush of his..)

"No, because we," Blossom said, grabbing Buttercup. "Are now leaving! Bye!" With that, the Powerpuff Girls (and Zephyr) flew away to go.. Do something or something.

I glanced at the first list on the top, Boomer's list, and laughed slightly. Boomer and Butch gave me a confused look before I showed them.

"HA! BOOMER IS GAY!" Butch cackled evilly.

"Wait, what!… 'Because you're a nice boy, you MUST be gay.'.. SAY WHAT!" Boomer yelped, blushing furiously.

"I should have seen THAT coming." I guffawed.

Boomer snatched his list from Butch and looked the rest of it over, not telling us what was on it. Butch grabbed his own list and his jaw dropped.

"WHAT THE HELL! I AM NOT EMO!" Butch howled furiously.

"Say whattt?" Boomer asked, cocking his head.

"READ IT!" Butch screeched, shoving me the list.

"'Because you wear black, you MUST be goth/emo.'" I read. "Well, Butch, they got you there."

"WHAT! SHUT UP!" Butch roared, cheeks blazing bright red. "WHAT'S YOURS, SMART ONE!"

I glanced at my list and blushed as I read the first stereotype.

"Um.. Let's not.. Read.. it.." I laughed nervously.

"Let's." Butch and Boomer smirked.

"Fine.. 'Because you're a redhead, you MUST be sexually driven'.." I recited embarrassedly, cheeks the color of a tomato.

"… PFFT! BWAHAHAHA!"

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"IT IS TO US! MWAHAHA!"

"SHUT UP! AT LEAST I'M NOT GAY OR EMO!"

That sent my brothers from laughing to an angry silent glower in three seconds flat. Their leers were full of hate.

"Not cool, dude.. Not cool.." Boomer mumbled.

"That's a low blow, bro.." Butch said, shaking his head.

"Well, it shut you up, didn't it!" I demanded, glaring back.

".. 'Because you're a blond, you MUST be stupid.'" Boomer growled from his list.

"That totally covers you. Ok, let's go home and give Bandit his list. Then, tomorrow, we'll prove the Puffs wrong!" I smirked.

"YEAH!" my brothers cheered excitedly. "THEY'RE GOING DOWN!"

But the same weird feeling from yesterday filled me; what if Blossom did win? And holy crap, how am I going to prove these stupid stereotypes!

.. Sometimes, I wish I would just keep my mouth closed..

But then again, we wouldn't be having any fun at all...

.. It was totally worth it!

~End of chapter!~

Brick: Can I see the rest of my stereotypes yet?

Me: NO! You're doing one a day, maybe two if there's enough.

Blossom:.. I did not need to hear the third stereotype..

Me: It was added so Butch and Boomer could laugh at Brick just a little..

Butch and Boomer: YHES! *Knuckle tap*

Buttercup and Bubbles: *Facepalm* Why..

Reds: Review and get…

Brick: A strawberry-banana smoothie!

Blossom: -_-ll I thought we agreed on a strawberry milkshake..

Brick: NO! SMOOTHIE!

Me: New stereotype - Because you're a leader, you MUST be a control freak. Just added to da list!

~Peace, peeps! Nothing fun yet.. Remember to review and send in stereotypes if you can! Bye!~


	3. Barb Wire Me, Babe

The Stereotype Game... By Dark Angel 91398..

Butch: Angel had writer's block.

Buttercup: She owns nothing but this story!

Me: I couldn't have said it better myself! Enjoy, ma cheres/mon cheres!

Chapter Three: Barb Wire Me, Babe! ^^Butch's POV^^

I groaned as I scanned my list over, that damned list that (for the strangest feeling) made me think Butterball was behind all this shit.

"This is the kind of torture that makes the school dance look like fucking fun!" I snarled under my breath, trying to figure out which was the worst so I could just get it over with.

Most likely, the gothy emo stereotype was going to be the One. That one had been in my life since the day I started going to Pokey Oaks like a normal, little kid. Technically, Buttercup was the reason everyone started calling me goth or emo or some third thing.

I held back a exasperated yell of anger, which was a probably a habit of every counterpart I had, and glowered viciously at my reflection in the mirror with the intention of pretending it was Buttercup.

My glare sharpened intensely; I never noticed how goth I looked at times. It kinda startled me, seeing something about myself that I hadn't before. My jaw locked firmly.

My eyes were weird, too dark a green to even be considered natural and almost black in anger. They weren't Brute's ugly shade of green that reminded me of the pea soup Him tried to make me eat (I don't fall for those stupid tricks).

But, they weren't the shade of green that I noticed regardless, that glistening shade of emerald that wasn't natural but was closer to it than mine and Brute's. The shade of green that belonged to a certain someone that was not to be named.

My face was too.. Well, it was normal, but not. My cheeks were.. Kinda, sorta chubby and round, but not as much as Boomer's. My jaw was weird and kinda angled with the way it was clenched.

My hair wasn't a normal shade of black if that's even possible. The kids at school had black hair that didn't shine, had a lot of split ends or frizzy strands sticking up, and was a duller looking shade of black.

I gulped and my leer turned to a more self-conscious frown. I was too different. I clenched my jaw again; I was starting to sound like the stereotypical goth/emo girls and boys who whined all the time.

Well, it was a good start on my new personality that I was adopting for the day.

"Hey, Brick? Does Dad still have all the eyeliner and mascara shit laying around?" I yelled down the hall.

"Um, Butch, why are you asking for makeup?" Brick demanded anxiously.

"What do you think, Sherlock?!" I growled.

Silence filled the room and I could practically feel Brick's tension melt away.

"Yeah. It's in his room." the ginger replied in a sigh.

I grinned. If this was what I had to be all day, I think I'm going to have some fun!

**Buttercup's POV**

I doodled on the cover of my English textbook in boredom as I waited for the last few seconds of transition time to end before our teacher, Mr. Forrester, started the class. (Yeah, I am that much of rebel, I draw on school property. How bad ass am I?)

It was already eighth period and I hadn't seen Butch (or any of the other Rowdyruff Boys for that matter) all day even though he was in all of my classes.

I smirked condescendingly.

He probably chickened out and would probably go on a long absence from school until the Stereotype Game was over-.

The heavy door of the classroom slammed open and everyone's heads turned towards it, mine included. My eyes widened. Was that...?

"Whoa... Is that a new kid?" Mitch Mitchelson asked quietly beside me.

I ignored my next seat neighbor's dumb question and couldn't help letting my jaw muscles relax and letting it drop.

"Mr. Jojo! What do you think you're doing with behavior like that?! Barging into my classroom and being late! Shame, shame..!" Mr. Forrester scolded like a sunbathing granny who just got soaked with ice water by her kids. (And you wonder why I'm in last period English!)

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shove it." Butch sneered, his upper lip curled into a wolfish scowl.

I felt my eyes lock with Butch's eyes as he stormed over to his assigned seat behind me and I noticed the makeup painted around his eyes. His eyes were fiercely dark and vicious as if they were black and not green.

His intense stare made my eyes slip away and I instead studied his outfit. Black steel-toed, combat boots made Butch's footsteps make a loud knock on the white tiles and I shuddered as a cold chain from his black, saggy cargoes touched my skin.

I refused, forbid, myself to look up any further and I stared at the now dirty tiles that Butch had stepped on. The sound of his chair scraping the floor made me feel extremely uncomfortable and I felt Butch's barb-wired hand gently touch my shoulder.

"You like the new look?" Butch purred smugly. "It sucks, but.. You know. So does my life."

I ignored the obviously unimportant question as the teacher began talking and writing on the whiteboard in the front of the room. Butch let out a growl and I felt something tangle in my hair before my hair was yanked.

"I asked you a question." Butch scowled in a monotone.

"Leave me alone." I hissed.

"What's wrong?" Mitch asked after a few minutes of me hissing in pain. "You usually draw in class."

"Nothing. We're talking. Piss off." Butch interjected rudely.

"I wasn't asking you, Jojo. I was asking Butters." the brown-haired boy scowled.

"Whatever. I'm just putting it out there." my counterpart snapped.

I sighed miserably as the two began to bicker and Butch threatened to staple Mitch to a wall with a staple gun ("And I'll use a nail gun down south, hear me?! Trying impressing the girls with your balls on the wall!"), which ultimately ended the argument.

"So, where were we?" Butch mused. "Oh, yeah. You like?"

"... I'm ignoring you."

"I know you like me. You were drooling."

"You know, you're not really being goth or emo."

"Your jaw was on the floor, bitch."

"If anything, you're just Butch in a costume and makeup."

A hot costume and really nice makeup.. Not that I'd ever wear that thing, but he actually looked kind of good in it. But I'd never admit it. After all, get rid of the outfit, replace it with a leotard and spiked bracelets, and you pretty much have Brute.

"I don't fucking care."

"Now, say it with emotion!"

"You know you want this."

"In your dreams."

"Or in yours, babe."

I huffed an exasperated sigh and glanced at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed since Butch walked in and class was dragging on with Mr. Forrester ranting on about symbolism and its importance in literature.

Butch flicked me and I felt my eye twitch. His hand tugged on my shirt and I tensed up as he lifted the strap of my bra teasingly.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Butch growled.

"Let that go!" I snapped a little too loudly.

"Miss Buttercup Utonium, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr. Forrester demanded firmly. "Anything interesting that the class should know?"

My cheeks flushed a bright cherry red and I swallowed nervously. Various people in the class looked at me, smirked, laughed, or shook their heads.

Butch let out a mischievous snicker and the teacher gave me the oh-so-famous "Get your ass up and talk" look.

Just minus the phrase "get your ass up".

"..." I gulped.

"Well?" the teacher frowned, tapping his foot.

"Yeah, well?" Butch guffawed.

".. BUTCH IS BEING A PERVERT AND- OW! THAT IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT! THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE WAS DESTROYED BY THE FRENCH, NAMELY NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, I HATE LIVER AND ONIONS, THANK YOU, AND HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!" I rambled, gathering my things and quickly rushing out the door as the bell rang.

Three-fourths of the class laughed at the random outburst and I felt eyes on my escaping back. Despite the stares, only one made my skin crawl and burn a hole into my body. The owner was already aware of it; in fact, he was following me.

"You know, your embarrassment almost made me want to smile... But then, I remembered I hated you and that I want you dead." Butch sighed.

"Why are you bothering me now that you're finally here?" I groaned.

"Why does cutting myself make me feel better when I can't bitch to you?" he joked.

"That reminds me of something.. NOT FUNNY!" I snapped.

"That reminds me of something else: I hate you." he sneered.

"Then, why are you stalking me?!" I demanded.

"... Face it. You're a bitch. I like to bitch. You have to like listening to me." he shrugged.

I felt my face sink to an angry, pouting scowl in annoyance as I turned the corner of the hallway toward the staircase.

You'd think I'd be safe from Butch's sudden outburst of a talkative, chatty bitch since his classroom was on the floor above us. You'd also be dead wrong and pissed that Butch is suddenly following you.

"So, I was like 'Shut the hell up, Dad, it's not a phase! I really do hate my life and these cat-eared headbands-" Butch ranted.

"Shouldn't you be getting to your own, goddamn classroom?!" I snapped as I finally saw my homeroom a few feet away.

"Nope. I'm cutting fucking class. And if you think you're not, you're wrong as hell." he growled.

"Ha. Funny. I can't since I have homework to do that I don't want my dad to try to make me do." I scoffed, speeding up.

Butch's eyes narrowed until they were just slits of a dark black-green color and I felt his hand snatch at my wrist. I glowered at my idiotic counterpart.

Just because he's pretending to be one of the goth slash emo boys (and failing miserably at it) and wearing a whole hell of a lot more makeup that me doesn't mean Butch can piss me off without me kicking his ass.

"You can't just not cut class." Butch frowned.

"Um, actually, I... Wait, what?" I exclaimed in confusion.

"You heard me. You can't just not cut class." he insisted.

"'You can't just not cut class'... So, you're saying I can go to study hall?" I asked.

"No. I'm saying you can't not just-.. Okay. Now, I'm confused.. You bitch.." he huffed.

I looked at the clock in the hallway and relief flooded me. It was only five minutes into study hall, so Mrs. Killer (yeah, I question why the school would hire someone named Killer too..) wouldn't be taking attendance yet.

But, seriously, I know the school officials are out to get us, but really?! Hire someone with the last name of Killer and the first name of Vendetta?!

"Don't even think about it." Butch scoffed, catching my stare at the clock. "You and I gotta go meet some friends."

"... please don't rape me.." I mumbled under my breath.

Butch's eyebrow raised and my face turned red as I realized he had heard me.

"Wouldn't dream of it, kid. You're the last person on my list that I'd want to.." Butch sniggered.

My eyes widened and suddenly, the words registered in his mind the way they had in mine.

"I am not saying I do have a list! 'Cause I don't!" Butch snapped.

"... For a guy in makeup, you're fucking terrifying." I said solemnly.

"Any time, babe. Now, hold still, so I can wrap this around your throat."

"Say what?!" I squeaked,

Butch smirked evilly as he usually did, but for some reason, with the makeup and his costume, it was scarier than ever. I noticed the jagged edges of barb wire in his fingerless-gloved hand and felt even more frightened.

Especially when I realized A.) he dragged me from where we had previously been standing into a darker corner behind an abandoned homeroom's entrance and B.) he had on lipstick that did not match his outfit. (What can I say? Bubbles' girliness rubs off.)

However, I couldn't tell you what was scarier. I was too busy trying not to laugh at the fact my scary, pissed off counterpart's expression when I accidentally stepped on his sagging pants and saw his bright pink, flowered boxers.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Butch snapped, his face turning the color of a tomato.

"O-Oh, wow! A-And to.. To think I-I was scared! O-Oh my g-god..!" I laughed.

Butch growled a curse at me and released me, storming off somewhere with an angry leer on his face.

Only after he left did I notice the barb wire wrapped carefully around my right wrist.

I sighed and looked back at the clock, prepared to get to Mrs. Killer and her homeroom of doom.

Study hall was almost over.

"Goddamn you, Butch Jojo! Fuck you!" I hissed in the direction that he disappeared.

I started towards the class bravely and only paused once when I swore I heard the husky laughter of my counterpart and felt his made-up eyes on my back.

I swore I'd never look at makeup or Butch the same way again and bolted like hell into the classroom, regardless of what the name of the teacher was or not. Even if she was Mrs. Vendetta Killer, the teacher was a better option than my counterpart.

I would just need to figure out if Butch had gotten a point in the Game or not.

~End of Chapter!~

Me: Not what I initially planned, but at least, you don't have to wait anymore, folks!

Blossom: She feels bad for the poor quality of the chapter. :P

Brick: **Facepalm** Why..? It was okay..

Me: I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON! **Sobbing*

Greens: Review and get... DONUTS!

Blues: **Fan girl screams* I loves a donut! :D

-Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, following, or PMing (whatever applies)! Peace, peeps! Was Butch's stereotype crap a win or fail (BC: Fail...)?-


End file.
